Fireteam Shattered-Glass: A retelling of Destiny
by TunnelratARC88
Summary: A Hunter with a dead soldier's stolen soul, a Titan infamous for altercations with his peers and a Warlock plagued by visions of a future that would destroy all that which he holds most dear. They might shatter glass. They might even kill a god. In a world full of things beyond even imagination, what else will one become, but something more beautiful than all it has destroyed?
1. Chapter 1: The Vexed Hunter

The sparrow's NLS drive hummed evenly and Lambda-12 felt none of the rough terrain beneath him… The optics carried his sight far, he could see the wall. Most Guardians chose to drop right into the Cosmodrome these days, it didn't sit well with him to do that. He liked the way the place presented itself as one rode-up planetside.

There was a barely registered jostling as his transport hovered slightly higher over what was once a well-paved road. The old… Automobiles? He believed that's what they were called. Came to pack the road from one side to the other. He stopped on a dime, got off, and surveyed the area as Cog transmatted his sparrow back to the ship.

There was not a sound. Once-upon-a-time, the howling of the Fallen had seemed so foreign to him. Now that he'd become used to it, the absence made him a touch suspicious. He was close to the wall now. He clambered inside through rusting stairs as he'd done so many times before. Eventually he found himself in a rather alien world…

The cavernous inner-chamber of the wall was once black as pitch and alive with the subtle sounds of the Fallen, how he'd relished his stealthy, regular transit through the area. Now, it was well-lit, not a corner left for the creatures to hide in. 'Seemed they were gone.

He made his way through the Divide and into the lair of Riksis, it dawned on him. Between the missing Arcadian Jumpship and choice whispers throughout the Tower that the old Archon hadn't been sighted for days. It was obvious that a Guardian, probably newly reborn, had stumbled through.

That new-born must've been brought back by a Ghost with a death-wish for them to have stolen that ship. Riksis being out of commission though? All probabilities were against it. He couldn't help but become nostalgic as he thought of his own rebirth. His journey became automatic as his mind accessed the files…  
_

 _Systems booted-up and red-light filled a confined space as his vision was restored. His hand shot-out to grab the weird jumble of geometric shapes that hovered just infront of him. "Hey!" Came a voice that he thought sounded decidedly western… He couldn't point to why he thought of it that way. Though he did have some concept of the fact that west was a direction._

 _"What are you, what is this, and." He paused, realizing something rather distressing… "Who… Am I…?" He asked in a voice filled with wonder. "I'll tell ya'. Butcha' gotta' let me go." Replied the small red-eyed robot in his hand, the voice indicated a deal._

 _Looking around a moment longer, he found that the thing was unlikely to escape. He was in some kind of… closet? "First thins' first… Tell me what you can figure, I'll fill you in on the rest… Y'know what you are, right?" The Collection of Geometry said, it seemed to add the question in a sigh. "I'm an Exo, who sounds like a scottsman, in a closet, with a ball made of shapes." He looked pointedly at the Collection of Geometry. It did sound ridiculous when put like that._

 _"I'm a Ghost, not a ball of shapes. Though… B-O-S, Boss… Has a nice ring to it." The robot seemed thoughtful for a moment, he ignored the slight chuckle the Guardian had at that. "I'm a little thing that can focus this… Light. Space-magic-stuff, keep you alive. Give you power too. You were dead by the way." The Exo didn't seem at-all phased by the last part. Instead he asked: "Can you tell how long it was this time?"  
_ _

Lambda was abruptly pulled from the memory as his radar indicated that an enemy was too close for comfort. His motions were nearly automatic as the knife sunk through chitinous-bone and plunged up into the soft flesh of the Acolyte's head… He was almost at his target, the Skywatch was close. He split his processes, and let himself sink back into memory as the 'autopilot' dealt with the Hive.  
_

 _The Ghost as it called itself, replied. "At least several hundred years. Wait, this time? As in you've died before?" And the answer came quickly, as if he'd been asked this too many times already. "Eleven times. Hence, Lambda-11…-Er, Lambda-12 now, it seems." The small thing seemed to light-up at this. "Wait, now you remember your name?" Once again, the reply seemed impatient. "I'd love to play 20 questions bruv, but my own systems are filling me in faster. First, I want out of this closet… Actually, how'd you get in 'ere?"_

 _The ghost pulled its pieces close, tightening up… "I don't think it would be wise to leave 'fore we're fully acquainted… I transmatted myself inside. There's fallen-" That's about when Lambda had found the emergency lever. It seemed his last question was a distraction, and the statement before it was one of intent. The Exo creeped out, scanning his surroundings…  
__

And found himself seeing the sun again. The Skywatch was alight, and he could hear the battle raging. He jumped up atop the building in-front of him, looking down the scope of his scout-rifle he could see it was more of a skirmish. As combat routines took hold, heads popped, bodies fell. A Hive Knight and Fallen Baron were engaged in a dance of death…

It was more of a dance on the Baron's part, the Knight seemed to just be trying to get lucky and cleave the Fallen in half. An incendiary-grenade came between them… Red optics shined with fire as the ball of light took the perfect bounce.

The Knight cared naught for the flames that heated its armor and burnt its flesh, it simply charged towards him. The Baron on the other hand, had fled for the moment. Predictable as they usually were, it wasn't likely to be preoccupied with recovery for long.

He met the Knight on the ground, having pulled his favorite fusion. It charged, the blade was coming down, he felt his shields break under the dark power. The next hit would never come, solar-fire raged out of the barrel and the Knight reeled from the impact.

It regained composure just long enough for the next barrage to flash in its green eyes… It was completely incinerated. He turned to where the Baron was, it was gone, he'd have to kill the Hive to make it safe enough and the rest of the Baron's crew to fuel a thirst for vengeance. _  
__

 _Finally able to see parts of himself, he could tell that he was wearing a lightly armored white body-suit. "Pulling your HUD up now Space-Cowboy… Don't worry, I'm not speaking out loud… 'See your motion-tracker?" Lambda did see it, he started going in that direction… "What'd you say these were?" His voice had changed in those few moments since his escape, it was a soldier's drone now. The Ghost replied as curtly as it could. "We call 'em Fallen… Arachnoid aliens, gas-bags. They breathe this stuff called Either, seems to be all they need to live. Obviously, they won't be pleased by your wakin…"  
__

And pleased the Baron was not. Its eyes betrayed many things, shame, jealousy, rage and hatred… Lambda reloaded his fusion rifle, he offered a bowed head to the Fallen but it didn't return the honor. It laughed in a way that seemed bitter and maybe even self-righteous. Lambda's optics came to see the reason, a shadow came over, a new crew dropped out of the skiff behind the Baron.

And a Servitor too, it shot a warming beam over the Baron, his health renewed. But Lambda knew how to match this… As the Dregs and Vandals came from behind their leader, the Exo subtly commanded his Ghost and jumped backwards into the air, a launcher appeared from his subspace-storage.

The dregs trembled for a moment and the Vandals readied to scatter. None of them were faster than a rocket. He spared no time sending the next one to the Servitor but the Baron was not idle, it'd blinked and only just after the rocket left the tube there was a fist clenched around the Hunters leg.  
_

 _The drone came again, with a hint of urgency. "Please tell me I've got weapons…" The small robot replied by generating a knife and dropping it in-front of Lambda, then it indicated the meter which represented available Light. The Exo caught the knife mid-drop with speed only his kind could muster… He said one last thing as fire charged in his robotic hand. "I think I've figured a name for ya' Collection of Geometry…" And if his form had allowed it, Lambda would've smirked…  
__

Lambda was thrown and felt servos shatter with the force of the impact, he rolled as best he could. He came to see the Servitor, cracked and nearly broken, only three shots of his scout-rifle and it shattered completely. Cog's light washed over him and flaming shrapnel from the Barons weapon whizzed past.

He pulled his fusion, and dumped all the ammo he could into the Baron… It refused to fall. He channeled Solar-light into his hands, a cannon of pure-flame manifested. One shot. Two. The Baron staggered back for the first time, another incendiary was at its feet. He thought it might not fall…

His will steeled, and he aimed true, he could swear that in that moment before his last shot that a streak of purple ripped into the back of the Fallen Barons head… The helmet cracked, his final shot found its home in the creature's head and the entire form stilled, then exploded.  
 ___

 **Author's notes** :

This is my first story on here, I hope it's received well. Please read & review, criticism is as vital as our sense of pain, 'helps us know what's wrong.

Chapters are unlikely to be very long, at-least not in the beginning. I do set myself to a 1k word-per-chapter minimum however. Also, the small paragraphs, a result of typing these up in Word. Frankly, I actually don't much care for the desktop view of stories on here anyway... Stretches it all out horizontally, though I assume many are probably used to it.

I'll have the next one out within the week. These three chapters are introductory, So we know our protagonists, so not as much over-arcing plot.

I'll have a more substantial note section at the end of the third chapter, for these first three, I want an un-interrupted flow.


	2. Chapter 2: A fistful of Glimmer

Lisa walked through the dusty-red-covered-city… Her imagination ran vivid and wild with visions of a world long-passed. Ancient Golden Age gravity-shields which must've acted as a dam, keeping the endless sea of dust from encroaching upon Freehold. It all amazed her. While she loved research and thirsted for knowledge, this place held the reason she would pursue an order of combat over such wonderous things.

The Cabal had pulled a moon into low-orbit and held it there like a loaded-gun. Even before she'd come here, she'd heard, she'd seen the scouting reports. The thought of all this faded-beauty being crushed like that… It had driven her to embrace the Praxic Fire. And now, here she was among the ruins of the city that filled her dreams.

She was not here to discover secrets of the first Golden, no. She was here under orders, tasked with finding and eliminating Bracus Tha'aurn. He was said to be stationed at a Cabal command post within Freehold, only blocks away from the Dust Palace… She knew she was close. She hadn't dared to summon her sparrow during her time here, for one particular reason.

Now was the time, with her, a Guardian this close, the Bracus was sure to come for her himself. She took out her Ghost and summoned the small vehicle but didn't mount it, instead she jumped, then glided into a near-by building. She had just used the Cabal Transmat Network. Which would instantly alert them to her presence. Within a dozen seconds, jetpacks were heard and within twenty, there were at least thirty Cabal in the street.

Psions inspected her sparrow while Phalanx's set-up a perimeter, the Legionaries set about expanding said perimeter… There was no art to their movements, they were soldiers not warriors. That was their folly. Lisa threw two firebolts into the middle of their position, her Ghost triggered the explosives carefully hidden in her Sparrow. Fifteen fell from that alone, bursts from her Autorifle rang out and five more were dead within seconds. Only Legionaries remained, they didn't hide or run, Cabal to the end, they assaulted her position.

But she had the high-ground, the light and more reason and will to her actions then they'd ever have the chance to muster. In the end, the final Cabal fell with a roar, he was pushed-back by forces beyond his imagination as he burned under his own armor. The suit seemed to pop from internal pressure as his mask went skyward… His last moments in life were spent gasping alien air he'd never been meant to breathe.

This hadn't been the response she'd expected… It would seem that maybe the Cabal had bigger things to worry about than Transmat breaches. She wasted no-time extracting the comms from a Psion corpse. She didn't understand Cabal Dialects, but her ghost was able to trace the signals and determine a likely home-base. She would be burning the life out of Tha'aurn in no-time. Or so she believed. She had not gone twenty yards down the street, before her world ended, her body dropped, and her ghost appeared to revive her. Something had just gone very wrong…  
_

He slid the bolt back manually. "Euphoria, baby." He put a new round in and charged the rifle. "Set the air-burst thirty feet back…" Adjusting his aim slightly off from the small orb of light. "…From my current mark." From a lavender-shelled Ghost came a cheerful and feminine voice. "Air-burst is set thirty feet from your mark, Roland. I calculate that damage to the target-Ghost will be negligible! Nice shot on Ms. Starrider by the way!" Roland took his shot, then watched through his scope as the Omolon Moon-Tracer-Explosive-Dart made its two-mile journey to the Ghost. "Thank you Kindly, Euphoria… And may I say, you are living-up to your namesake as well as always." His rough voice came low inside of the ancient corner-office-space…  
_

The simple-shelled-Ghost didn't have time to worry about the small explosion that just showered it in dust that most-certainly was not of Martian origin… It was too busy pulling-in light to revive its Guardian.

Lisa was up in a flash and immediately ordered her Ghost into its subspace-pocket. She ran like hell was on her heels. It took her a few moments to register what her Ghost was saying… That the shot had come from behind her. That a second one had exploded next to it only moments later. That the Ghost couldn't tell exactly how far-away the shooter was. As she dove into a side-street, she willed herself to reason it… She was beyond the range of a Wire Rifle, beyond the range of a Line Rifle… The Cabal didn't use snipers from what she knew. There was only one possibility. It chilled her to the bone.

She'd heard of bounty-hunters… Not the kind who took Vanguard or Crucible bounties. Nothing like this could come from the Tower. She recalled the words of Prince Uldren. The night he caught her as she left the Queens chambers: _"You'd better be careful who you keep as a bed fellow… You might just end-up in the sights of an assassin. And you have no-idea the kinds of monsters that lurk out here in the wilds."_ She called-up her sparrow, not caring if the Cabal fixed her position again. She had to break it off, she couldn't risk failing. She couldn't risk her second life.  
_

Roland Jumped. The Void-jets on his Titan-class Spektar Armor were tuned for horizontal speed. And with the emerging technique he'd modified his grieves for, he was well-faster than even a guardian's sparrow. Whatever Juggernaut it was who decided to come-up with Titan Skating… Well, Roland had to admit that even _He, Himself_ had equals. He smashed in through the glass of the next building. And skipped across the floor, pushing his armor to its limits. "Euphoria, paint me a picture… Make it pretty. Make it a City and paint my target so I have a clue what to do." Roland nearly sang the words out as he flew through some buildings and sailed clean-over others…

"Map overlaid on your HUD with forty-percent opacity! Go get her tiger!" Came the honey-filled reply of the sweet-doting Ghost.

And get her, Roland would.  
_

Lisa was nearly out of Freehold when she started to hear it… The almost rhythmic beat of shattering glass. She asked her Ghost what it was. He scanned for a moment, then told her with a voice that sounded as confused as she felt. It wasn't some unholy horror from beyond. It was another Guardian. The bizarre part was that there was no-other NLS drive emanating. He was catching-up to her without a vehicle.

Within seconds she was in the open and beyond the last of the buildings. The Warlock breathed a sigh of relief as she told her Ghost to call the ship down for transmat... Then he told her he couldn't reach it. Her fear renewed as her Ghost informed her that the signal was jammed. Then, a flash of purple. And with a pop her sparrow sunk to the ground, her light felt stifled. A Suppressor Grenade. She unslung her rifle and turned to her assailant.

The figure was walking towards her, he was wearing White-ish, almost purple looking armor that was far too flamboyant for any Titan she knew. Void-jets glowed signaling the Spektar Tech construction. She sprayed her Autorifle, but this was no-duel. A single streak of purple through the air and her shield was gone. The Titan held the rifle by its front grip with his right-hand as his left moved to his hip faster than any normal person could blink. He was firing shots off as-soon as the cannon was pointed vaguely in her direction.

The cannon rang three times… By either sheer skill or luck the first hit her square in the chest, the second missed as his arm extended. But by the third hammer-strike, the sights were perfectly between his left eye, and her head. For the second-time that day, her body dropped limply to the ground.  
_

Roland watched as the featureless Ghost tried in-vein to resurrect its Guardian. He thought back to the stories of Felwinter… In a time when Ghosts had minimal shielding. Over the centuries new methods were devised. Now, advanced shielding was a common upgrade for every Ghost that came to the Tower. So simply pulling out a shotgun wouldn't cut-it here. No, that's why he had the rather deceivingly hefty spike-grenade-shaped-object that he planted near Lisa Starrider's soon-to-be-permanent-corpse.

The Ghost was pulled-in towards the device as it powered-on, seemingly magnetized to it. The geometric pieces of the outer shell came together tight around the orb which was the Ghost itself and the shield broke. Roland wasted no-time taking the Ghost in his right hand, then punching his left into it…

The Ghost disintegrated completely and the overshield which enveloped Roland would come to be his saving-grace. As the body next to him exploded in Praxic Fire. A flaming palm shattered every shield he had and his armor burned in Solar Light.  
_

Lisa never remembered her first death… No Guardian ever truly did. But the feeling of Darkness pulling at her soul where once there was only light, told her that her connection to that ever-full Well of Light was disconnected. Her Ghost was likely dead. She was a Praxic Warlock though, a Sunsinger. She saw that barely-there pinprick of Light… And she sang to it.

The first thing she saw when she came to her third life, was the Titan. Her Ghost was gone completely, the overshield around the Titan told her everything she needed to know. She took the shield for herself. He burned. But his arms crossed, she could see what was happening, she didn't have the speed or foresight to stop it. His arms went out to the sides and the Bubble enveloped them, she knew that she had nothing strong enough to break the Armor of Light. Then, she heard the voice of the man who had killed her. Who _would_ kill her again.

"You don't-" He hit her with a quick right. "-Get into-" He jumped back, throwing a suppressor as he left the bubble momentarily. "-A punching-" She tried to palm, but found her energy sapped and his left hand crushed through the pitiful defense. "-Match-" His right connected with her stomach and her knees gave in. "-With-" As she fell forward his left caught her jaw in an upper-cut. "-A Titan!" Lisa was launched and elevated two feet as she sailed to lie at the other end of the Bubble.

There was nothing to heal her, she felt herself losing consciousness. A boot pressed heavy to her chest… She could see the face of the man who killed her as he removed his helmet and she remembered off handedly that a Defender Bubble was vacuum-sealed and filled with air. She heard his voice un-aided by the helmet, it was the same course, sandpaper-tone she heard before.

"It's a damn shame… Nothing personal." And she barely got the name past her lips: "Corrie…" She wanted her last words, her last thoughts to be of her. The Titan seemed to assume the words were for him. "I'll tell your girlfriend you died to the Bracus. Psions are their only anti-light weapon and he surrounds himself with them." Roland pulled his cannon one-last-time, then added as an afterthought as the hammer pulled back: "You did not go gentle into this good-night." Then a single boom, deafened by the Void where the voices weren't.  
_

Uldren Sov waited, tapping his foot. Roland Mercury. The name fit the Titan well. He was like a slippery, slithering poison. He was already aboard the Wolf-ship Ketch... And had demanded to use the restroom before their meeting. The doors opened, and a Crow came to sit on his shoulder. The Titan was a couple hallways down. The Crow explained that he was taking his sweet-time swaggering to the control-center.

Finally, the doors opened, the white-purple armored Titan strolled in. He walked a tight-rope line, his shoulders back, chest up and forward. He was obviously very posture-conscious. Helmet off in some subspace pocket somewhere, a sack held by his right hand. Roland tossed it to Uldren. He expected the hard, geometric shapes of the Warlock's Ghost. This felt decidedly softer…

He opened the bag and nearly choked on his own spit as he beheld the severed-head of the Woman he knew to have been graced with bedding his sister on more than one occasion. He dropped the thing unceremoniously. The Harbingers must've hated him, because at that moment the head rolled out of the bag and dripped Awoken blood on the floor of his ship. "What the fuck!? What is this?! Why…?!"

Roland replied with boisterous laughter, barely managing to get the words out: "Your face! Oh, gods. Euphoria, please tell me you got that!" The lavender Ghost appeared to reply. "I did! Saved and added to favorites, Roland-dear!" Uldren's face became fixed in an eternal scowl… "Had your fun, did you?" Roland simply nodded while he laughed. "Fine, it seems you did your job. Crow, send for a janitor and get Mr. Mercury his payment." The Master of Crows hastily made his way around the still-jittering Titan, he almost reached the door when he heard the voice again.

"Hold-up space-cowboy. We haven't talked about payment." The Prince turned to glare… "You want more?" He assumed incredulously. Roland smiled in a manner which was more irritating than usual. "I think you'll be happy to pay just a little more, to cover overhead." The Prince's lip pulled into a snare at the idea. "You didn't even bring the Ghost back as I requested."

At this, the Titan held-up his hand and he counted the points off by thumbing the underside of each knuckle. "I used an Omolon Tracer. Had to make modifications to my boots. A Transmat-scrambler. A Void-magnet charged by a Hive Shrieker. Oh, and let's not forget, you failed to mention the most important point about the target." Roland paused to give the Prince time to own-up… It seemed he wouldn't. "She was a Sunsinger." Uldren's reply was a quick hiss through clenched-teeth: "There was no indication of that." The Titan was unconvinced. "I understand, O'Master of Crows… You were testing me. I know, no Spy-Master forgets what a Sunsinger looks like." He then narrowed his eyes to indicate that his position was final. "My payment. Now."

Euphoria sent the updated list detailing payment and Prince Uldren Sov was proven a man of his word. Roland left the ship quietly-contented. One fistful of Glimmer, one fistful of Strange Coins.  
_

 **Author's Notes:**

So, a longer chapter this time. When I said in the last chapter, that I'd have it in before the week was out, I meant: before it had been a week since posting the first chapter. But, I decided to crank it out before Monday instead. Hope you're happy! (I am.) But know from now-on, I'll likely be posting only one every week.

I didn't anticipate the amount of action I'd put into this one. I initially had two ideas for introducing Roland: #1 Was have him bounty-hunting another Guardian. #2 focused on setting-up false expectations, make you think the chapter was about another character. For the most part, I combined them in the end! I scrapped the hunt at-first, because I wanted to build-up to Roland just straight-up merc'ing somebody like that. But the second option, in-which Roland gets into a bar-fight at the Tower... Well, it just seemed vapid to me. Useless drama.

I hope Uldren came-out well. I'm always apprehensive to write a character that isn't my own. Since it's not something I think will get explained in the story(Just isn't that important to me.) The reason Uldren wanted our friendly Warlock dead is that he doesn't want anyone to have influence over his sister except for him. He seems like the possessive type, doesn't he?

Roland: I'll have more in-depth explanations of what Chars look-like... At some point. Fitting it into these last two chapters would've broken a lot of artsy formatting and I can't have that. Roland's supposed to sound a lot like Clint Eastwood from his old spaghetti westerns. Just sound though, again, looks will hopefully be handled soon.

Mars: In-game "our" Ghost & Guardian duo are treated as real trail-blazers, as-if we're the first ones to visit other planets since the Golden Age. This is dumb. It's also never answered in-game, but The Cabal are likely to have a blockade around Mars, which would prevent anyone from landing. My explanation: Rasputin is keeping them busy now that he's awake. I hope to have a better chance to mention this in the story at some point. Just know that my lazy-writing here saw's my bones. /cryasingletear

The Felwinter thing: I couldn't help but shake my head when he shoots a ghost with a Shotgun and it just works like that. So I had to explain it.

Titan Skating: Is, according to my head-cannon, a thing. I like the idea of making silly-stuff like that an actual in-universe thing. Look at what Bungie themselves have done: They've made references to Guardians dancing around, being goofballs in at least one Grimoire card and in the Owl Sector stuff.

Yes, I have made references to obscure and un-paid-off Grimoire lore already. I will endeavor to continue this trend in the Future.

Once again: R&R... Your feedback is sure to help me help you help me help us all.


	3. Chapter 3: Lunar Reprise

He skulked about the place. It wasn't a hard thing to do, at least not now. He'd seen it on high alert though. Any other Guardian would've alerted _Them_ already. Any other Guardian would be 'shit out of luck'. But not him, he'd grown accustom to the particular tactics required. He knew that Toland wouldn't be proud. He had the sneaking suspicion that the man might be furious. Because John was circumventing every tenant of the Hive.

John Bowman didn't come to blows with anything unless necessary. His thoughts were drawn away… He could hear it already. But to see, to _know_ , was far more beautiful. And he could see it now. This peculiar variant of Hive construction was somehow, more technological. If you could call anything used by the Hive, technology as opposed to magic. But, the exact workings of this were unimportant.

What was of import, was the giant orange orb ahead of him, it was moving again. He knew what that meant.  
_

He was in a main court-yard now. He let himself look up for a moment and see the dark beyond. And the light which wouldn't reach, not down here. He'd have to check the summoning pits later, little-little-Phogoth could wait. He moved forward, standing still, here, was a death-sentence.

The Hellmouth was surprisingly sparse. The Hive were too busy warring with the dewy and new House of Exile above. They would _never_ resist a fight. Fighting, to them was as necessary as the air in his lungs was to him. Still, there were few here. Thrall ate of the dead, Acolytes prayed to the dead, Knights preyed on the dead and Wizards, oh-no, they did something very different. They were the only things here that got their claws on the living.

And a very specific set of Wizards he was hunting for, were sure to be doing just that.  
_

He followed that map he'd received from the 'Worlds Grave'. He remembered his last intrusion into the world of the Hive. Fireteam Aleph-Ultima was only happy to unwittingly share with him the prize that they sought. In-fact, they didn't even notice the extra Hive that were sent to dispatch him. They vaingloriously assumed they were worthy of the extra onslaught they received for shielding his presence.

As he went down he could feel it, the pull of the Light. But just as with the Shrine to Oryx, he had to know. So he went deeper, passed a Knight in prayer and the Acolytes that mimicked him. His transit disturbed the Knight, and if the thought wasn't so morbid, he would've laughed out-loud as the thing raged and tore its comrades asunder… Cleaving its own kin for a transgression _He_ committed.

Then he found the Wizards… Preparing for the Ritual. The glowing Shard hovered in place, darkness slowly creeping over it. Images alone would be enough for Ikora, for the Speaker. For the rest of the Vanguard, he wanted more. For himself, he needed more. Because something told him that the Knight he passed might not be as drowsy as it had been the first-time and it surely wouldn't have any subordinates to blame that next-time.

He thought about how Roland would handle it… Then jumped, glided and the Hive seemed utterly confused, shocked. He went-up, thrusted Light through the dark shroud and touched the Shard. He felt the Light, not-yet tainted. He let it wash over him, threw Fusion-grenades into the Acolytes and Thrall below him. Then he ran because the whole of the Hellmouth would be upon him in seconds.

The Hive were not expecting this, they had no-reason to think a Guardian could hide from them, sneak passed them. Why would they? They'd never known that Eris Morn had survived. He shot as he ran, used the Light to steal the life-force from an enemy to make a shield. Eventually with Thrall at his heels, he passed the Knight, a quick swipe made short work of his overshield but he kept running, kept making the pace.

And he was sure, sure that he was home-free. But little-little-Phogoth was not so small anymore. Just as these things usually were, the smallest was actually the strongest. And it was here. He saw the Shackles, with Hive runes on them so large and heavy that the creature's claws were held to the floor and Knights pulled it by chains… Towards the Summoning Pits. Then a beam of Void blasted Bowman, Gliding was not the best evasive move and the Creature's head was not as restrained as its fists. He found himself up against a rock, Thrall and Knights came for him from whence he'd come. This wasn't how he'd expected this to go.

Standing still here was still a death sentence, now more than ever. He threw the last grenade he had to the Ogre, heard the stick, heard the roar and jumped up on-top of the rock. Then jumped again and glided upwards. He climbed up the Hive architecture, the moon-rock. Then a barrage of Boomer shots hit him, he fell. The ground came quickly, and he died.  
_

But that last-part, didn't make it into the report he gave to Ikora. He was sure she suspected, hell, she'd made a couple jokes to him alluding that she knew. But he'd keep it unofficial, he'd keep it a secret, that they both knew, but wouldn't seriously speak of. He wouldn't tell her how he'd almost let the dark swallow him then, how he'd sang the song with a sense of bitterness. He'd sang it true though. And here he was, to prove that death wasn't as enticing as the future he'd been shown he would create.

Ikora read the report as the two of them walked to an area of the Tower which offered more privacy than the Vanguard Operations-center. John preferred to turn-in his reports personally. However, as happened every so-often, she could see in his eyes that they needed to talk about this one. He closed the door behind them as she walked to the secluded balcony, leaned forward on the railing and turned her head to the side to see him. "So, should I show you mine first?"

It was a rare joke that elicited a rare smile of mirth from Bowman. "first?" He asked with the smile still lingering, then continued: "I've already shown you _everything_ I have to offer." John joined her at the rail but stood with his hands behind his back. The two of them looked-out over the wilderness passed the Wall, passed the warmth of safety that emanated under the sleeping form of the Traveler.

But the playful moment passed and Ikora was reminded that this was more than just an excuse to tease the man. "You obviously wanted to discuss something. Don't tell me it's-" And the green-eyed man answered before she could add a question mark to the sentence: "It-is. I'm telling you Ikora, that a strike has to be authorized on it." John paused, and narrowed his eyes, a tone of urgency crept into his voice: "We let this thing live, there's no-telling what kind of obstacle it will present once we finally execute a raid on the Hellmouth."

"You sound like Zavala when you get like this." The Warlock Vanguard gave him a long-look, it wasn't necessarily a negative and her voice held a sort-of reverence when she said it. But in her eyes was a minor scold nonetheless and she added to it: "Another among the Hidden tells me that the creature isn't a threat, and still won't be by the time we have all the pieces in place for the operation." But there was fire in his eyes. " _Eris,_ hasn't seen Phogoth recently and I doubt she'd say that again, once she knows they've already taken it to the Summoning Pits."

Whenever he was right, it made her feel older, like she was already starting to lose the touch she had when she was Osiris' pupil. And in this moment, she felt older by more than a couple years. "Relax John, I'll do everything I can to authorize the strike. But only after there's no possibility of damage to the Shard." She pointedly looked at him as she'd spoken the second sentence. The look he gave her back was satisfied, if a bit reproaching. "Yes, I know, no-damage to the Shard. That reminds me." And John reached into the satchel that always hung from his shoulder, taking a glowing cylinder from it, he handed the cylinder to Ikora.

"That's strict-proof, light eternal enough to satisfy the rest of the Vanguard _and_ send the Speaker into a frenzy." The Warlock Vanguard's eyes shot fully open and she took the tube of light in hand with her mouth even slightly agape. "You got close enough to touch it?" And then she looked at him, once-again her eyes scolding. "John, you didn't need to, you shouldn't have taken the chance." He sighed and tried to give her a guilty smile "Ikora, the Consensus needs this to justify an official return to Luna, and I knew what it would mean to you to have it."

And Ikora Rey, for the first-time that he'd known her, held a look at-least half as guilty as his own. Her hand touched his shoulder and she spoke. "John, this _is_ important. But the Light _you carry_ means more to the City than a trinket full of lost Light. The mind you carry, is worth just as-much alone." John urged himself to relax and slowly took the woman's hand off of himself. "I know all that. It was a calculated risk. Maybe next-time, you'll have an excuse for me to bring a fireteam." John feigned thoughtfulness as he looked up-and-away. "Maybe say… Oh, I don't know, because it's an official strike operation?"

Ikora laughed and after exchanging parting words she made her way to the Speaker's chamber. John decided to go to his dormitory for well-needed rest.  
_

Rest would come to him, and rest would leave him. John, once-again wore his armor and over-coat as he made a quick pace through the blocks of the city. Not every Guardian used the complementary bed and board offered by the Tower. Certainly, no-one with as many secrets to hide and enemies to hide from as His close-friend did. He placed a call and listened as it dialed.

"Ah, Mr. Bowman! I take it you're keeping the appointment?" a honey-filled feminine voice said over the line. It had taken more than a couple dials, and each one had rung all the-way-through. He had once been mildly annoyed at the antics, but it was usual now. He would've been immensely suspicious if it were any-other-way. He replied: "Yes, _I am_. It seems our mutual-friend however, is not."

"I'm terribly sorry Mr. Bowman, I didn't want to disturb him with the wake-up-call. You know how peaceful he seems while he sleeps..." John didn't let humor creep into his voice, they wouldn't get-off that easy. Not with John Bowman they wouldn't. "I don't make a habit of watching people sleep Ria. Would you tell him to get ready? We can't miss the match." And as John finished, he couldn't help but think about last-time, when Shaxx had decided to pit the two of them against the rest of both the enemy team, and their own.

"I already have!" The voice replied with glee that almost sounded a bit smug. John sighed to himself and shook his head. "I'll be there soon Ria." And he waited for the reply. "Then I guess I'll see you soon, Mr. Bowman, have a nice walk!" With that, John ended the call. It wasn't long at all before he entered the building.

He went to the elevator, pressed the button for the appropriate floor and waited for the ascension to end before opening his eyes and exiting. He came to the door and entered the sort-of airlock chamber which separated the apartment from the main hall. He stood idly wringing his hands and cracking his knuckles as scanning beams flew over him. The beams stopped, moments passed feeling more like minutes. Then the door went from it's closed-state to its open state and John found himself wishing that people still used analog doors.

John stood at a decent 5'11, just a bit under average. He had to look down slightly to address the Awoken before him. Unfortunately, there was no-way to look his friend in the eye and not see everything else. It was times like these he hated his friend's boundless confidence. John scoffed lightly and turned his eyes straight forward.

"John, don't be a stiff. Come-on in." The 5'5, blue-skinned Awoken said casually as he idly thumbed his belly-button. Then turned around and walked to the main-room. Shielding Johns eyes from the Awoken's manhood, but giving him an eye-full of moon. He wasn't sure which made him feel more uncomfortable.

Roland turned his head back to John and spoke low: "Don't worry, you're not my only guest." They entered the main-room. It was incredibly spacious, with a high ceiling and windows that went all the way up to it. Divided in three main sections there was a sunken living area with a semi-circular couch around a combination fire-pit/holographic-entertainment-center. A raised, almost stage-area Roland used as a bed-room, with wardrobe, mirrors and bed.

The level that sat between them served as a walk-way which connected to the entry hall, bathroom and kitchen-area, which came complete with a bar-style counter to section it off.

Roland climbed-up the four steps which led to his bed-area. And John found his eyes upon the other guest Roland mentioned. A young-woman, who barely looked over 20 lay on the bed with her alabaster-behind as high in the air as she could hang it. Her head was turned away. "Roland, did you send them away yet…? _I'm aching over here_." She had a neutral-accented voice like John himself. Roland's reply came as he pulled-on a pair of boxers from the floor. "Babe, I think you should know: You're giving _Him,_ not them, a very nice view right-now…" Roland's rough voice emanated loudly as mischief came over his lips.

The woman popped her head up immediately, turned to John and blushed as she unceremoniously threw the covers over her naked form. She let black-hair cover purple eyes and opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. John tore his eyes from her and sent them to the windows as Roland spoke again. "John, this is Corrie, a beautiful Bladedancer I met at the Tower lounge just a few nights ago." Roland made his way down the stairs, and to the kitchen. "Corrie, this is John the Dove, the only man I ever loved." John, a tad nervous, tipped a hat that wasn't there as Corrie waved her fingers sheepishly.

John barely heard the clinking before- "Fore!" Roland bellowed as a bottle sailed towards John. He put his hand-up to grab it. But it bounced, and he bobbled it at least twice before it was securely in his hands. He twisted the cap off and was grateful for the early morning drink. Another one sailed high and landed on the bed next to Corrie, who seemed equally accepting of the beer. Roland sipped his own now.

John furrowed his brow and was the first to break the silence: "Ria, come-on-out…" The lavender-shelled Ghost appeared. "Yes Mr. Bowman?" John barely noticed the look of shock on Corrie's face as she flipped her hair back. He narrowed his eyes at the Ghost. "You should've warned me. You have to get space-cowboy over here to explain to you the intricacies of these sort-of… _Situations_." John finished, looking to Roland who was about to speak before- "Your _Ghost_ was in here the whole time!?" Corrie exclaimed as her blush flared and she had to close her eyes as she tried to hide a smile, further-scandalized.

"I saw the whole thing! And may-I-say Ms. Eve, your sexual-form complements Rolands better than any-female I've yet observed!" Euphoria spoke, destroying Roland's second chance to say something to salvage the situation. The bed-fellows laughed as John could only hang his head back and groan, letting mirth spread across his face.

The short Defender Titan made his way to the bedside and gave the young-woman a kiss. John could swear he heard Roland make the girl an offer. He heard a yelp and snapped his head to see Roland pick her up and start carrying her down the stairs. "John, you pervert! Avert your eyes from my woman!" Roland said with mock-offense and John rolled his eyes but didn't bring them back to the couple.

He heard faint whispering for a second followed by a mischievous laugh. "Actually, Corrie's had a great idea." John could _hear_ the smirk in Roland's voice. "She's suggested I offer for you to join us." Then John heard a door opening. "Nope, I already took a shower this morning. Besides…" John kept all but the barest of smirks from coming across his face and give them one last look. "I can barely conceive that she handles you, no-telling what would happen if I were added to that mix." John said it as-if some catastrophe would occur. He took another swig, finding his bottle almost empty.

Roland laughed, and John could swear he heard an 'Awe' of disappointment come from Corrie as the door to the bathroom slid shut. He decided to have a chat with Euphoria about decency and social signals while the other two got cleaned-up.  
_

 **Author's Notes:**

This chapter got away from me and ended up being quite a bit longer than initially expected. I won't bore you with the excuses of why I've been sitting on this for a good few months instead of just posting it.

On the Chapter: This last section was a bit of a coin flip, I hate gratuitous sexual content that's just thrown-in because something holds an adult rating. But here, I hope it serves to further characterize Roland and show you the casual nature of both his friendships and sexual relationships. I'm happy with how this chapter turned-out, especially considering that it's the first-one that runs continuously from a single perspective/has a linear sequence of events. I wanted each character's intro to feel unique, you think I've accomplished that reasonably well?

Time: The story of D1 can be assumed to take place over the course of days or even hours. Remember the line 'our' Ghost makes in the Cosmodrome? "We'll be able to reach the Forgotten Shore in seconds." In this story, I want things to be different, D1('expansions' and all) by my head cannon here, takes-place over the course of months, years, maybe even a decade or two. Between some chapters there will be large time-gaps.

Protagonism: I espoused last-chapter that I don't like the idea of just one (Guardian)Fireteam discovering every planet, this goes for missions, strikes and raids as well. It seems more reasonable to me that different fireteams take-on the various activities Destiny has to offer. I'll let you figure-out where Shattered Glass fits-in among the Fireteams formed under the Vanguard.

I hope the lore-nods are appreciated and that my hinting isn't too obvious. I know it can hurt a story to have the _**SUBTLETY**_ bashed against one's head...

To be truthful, what got me to take a look and post another chapter, was seeing a new follow/favorite. So R&R is greatly appreciated.


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